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Month: January 2020

Figueroa King

When I lived in L.A., whenever I was having a bad day or needed to clear my head, I’d run. I’d push open the shitty gate we had that didn’t really do much, take a left around the school and run up side streets parallel to Vermont Avenue, which was a pretty big street. I’d pass the ice cream trucks, caged roosters kept for cockfighting – smell the carne asada and weed that was coming from homes where people were playing dominoes in the garage. I’d cross under the bridge, the traffic and helicopters drowning out whatever I was listening…